It’s with a bit of embarrassment that I confess that I found my way to Ornette Coleman through the lifting of this album’s title by the band Galaxie 500 for their final release. Since that time Coleman has been at the forefront of my collection, as he’s a singularity when it comes to jazz, even coining the genre name of ‘free form jazz’ with his 1960 outing Free Jazz.

Coleman was not only a visionary and self-taught musician, he was a bit of an odd man out, never hooking his wagon as an apprentice to known bands as nearly all of other greats had done in the past, learning their chops and honing their skills before flying free. It’s always an interesting discussion to consider if signing on with a big name band would have helped or hindered Coleman’s sonic take, though I for one feel that while he may certainly have benefited from a proper upbringing, perhaps some of the purity of his arrangements and intonations might surely have been lost, or at least run far too close, too parallel, to those willing to take him under their wing. All of that being said, Coleman probably wouldn’t have been a good fit with any band, as he was a problem child of sorts, feeling that chords in general exerted a hinderance or undue influential structure when it came to improvisation, limiting the player’s melodic freedom, keeping them from soaring to lofty heights and breaking free of all that was expected.

Considering this, it’s astounding how accessible and uptempo Coleman’s music is, though I’m sure that it was anything but accessible during the 1960’s, with his influences affecting both blues and rock artists who where on the cusp of great changes that were happening during those years. What always amazes me, is that after all these years, one can still hear Coleman asking and answering questions within his music, how energetic he is here, and how he feels no need for lengthy construction, channeling his songs to live and breath around the four or five minute mark. And most delightful, there’s an unqualified playfulness to his numbers, where those he’s gathered around him seem at times to be chasing each other around, where you can almost hear the laughter, while at other times he and his mates swing with a sort of free form jazz pop that is responsive and laced with musical colour shadings, letting the structural context slip away in a manner that feels as if one is physically undressing.

None of this was well accepted for the most part during his most prolific years, with fans and musicians wanting to do actual physical harm to Ornette Coleman, where it was difficult to find a venue that would support his style, as his music was not laid back and easy, it was intelligent and demanding in a manner where one needed to be in touch with Coleman and his band, to follow them through this masterpiece … it wasn’t the sort of music that one could bop along to, ask the waiter for a drink, and slide back in without losing one’s place, when you listened to Ornette Coleman playing live, you were committed to the ride.

If you dig this music, and I’m sure you will, let me say that there were an additional 16 tracks recorded on that hot July night that would find their way onto three compilations many years later, The Art of the Improvisers, To Whom Who Keeps A Record, and Twins. All of these also found a home on the box set Beauty Is A Rare Thing, titled from the second track on this album, that came out in 1993.